Guns & Roses
by LunaRS
Summary: Jimmy Novak, business name "Castiel", hasn't stolen anything for years and when he's asked to by the King of the underworld of crime, he declines, but at a great cost. Supernatural AU Detective!Dean, Lawyer!Sam, and Theif!Castiel. Megstiel pairing. Rated T for violence and language. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

_ "I won't do it, Fergus." the tone of his husky voice made this statement final, immovable. _

"_You can't keep me here." he added, studying his surroundings carefully and un-noticeably, his eyes flicking about in search of every possible exit, every action and its outcome, and every person he would have to deal with in order to successfully slip away. There was a bit of a draft in the rusty box of a room, holes dotting the ceiling of the office in the abandoned, and previously unused warehouse; the musty scent of rust and a delectable bouquet of pastries wafted through the chilled air that also tickled his face and made the edges of his trench coat tremble slightly; he could see every puff of air he exhaled hang for a moment in the air before him._

_ "Jimmy, I'm not going to just let you leave." the one called Fergus replied in his gruff British accent, sounding just as serious and set in his decision._

_The man in the trench coat, who was called Jimmy, furrowed his brow._

"_No...you _really_ can't keep me here." he reiterated. Fergus chuckled, pacing with his hands in the pockets of his black suit. _

"_I can try." he shrugged. The doors behind the trench-coated man burst open and he ran towards Fergus, ignoring the newly arrived men with guns, who also pulled out a gun. Jimmy expertly disarmed Fergus and smacked the pistol into Fergus' face, darting away when the angry suited man lashed out at him._

_ Jimmy ran for the desk at the end of the room and once he had climbed on top of it, all the while dodging bullets with pure luck and skill, he picked up the chair and thrust it up and into the rusty ceiling, causing that part of the roofing to crumble. With a quick grin at Fergus, Jimmy swiftly set down the chair, and leapt up off of it, finding a stable place to hold on the roof to pull himself onto._

_And thus he escaped, not without a stray bullet to the shin and the echo of an infuriated voice cursing "bollocks!"_


	2. Unemployed

He knocked on the door.

Once.

Twice.

The door opened before he had the chance to knock again.

"Bloody hell, can't a guy get any peace?" A British accent poured out of the now open doorway.

"Balthazar," the man who had knocked wheezed in a gravelly voice.

"The hell'd you do to your leg?" the man named Balthazar asked in wonder.

"I got shot. Help me in." the injured man said, nearly falling over before Balthazar helped to drag him in.

"What have you gotten yourself into _this_ time, Cassie?" Balthazar questioned under his breath as he pulled the stumbling trench-coated man into his humble abode.

The living room was dotted with...well, nothing. Actually, for a compactly little apartment, it was very clean; that was just his personality; he could turn anything, even a crap apartment, into a place a man with class, he, Balthazar Holt, could be proud of.

"Castiel-"

"Call me Jimmy right now," the injured man interrupted, grunting in pain when his leg was jostled after Balthazar laid him down on the sofa, propping his leg up and setting off to gather the supplies he needed to safely extract the bullet from Jimmy's shin.

"My, now we're calling you by your real name? I wonder just how much trouble you got yourself into," Balthazar mumbled to himself, setting out his medical tools. "Who shot you?"

"It was one of Crowley's men," Jimmy replied, grimacing when the blond man set to work on his shin.

"Ah, and what did you say to invoke the wrath of the Boss?" Balthazar kept up the conversation; it helped him both to concentrate and to satiate his curiosity.

"He's not my Boss anymore, Balthazar," Jimmy groaned.

Fergus Mcleod, aka "Crowley" as those of the Underworld of crime called him, was the King of all crimes. Balthazar, real name "Harold Holt", used to be a practicing physician but was of late stationed where any of Crowley's men or friends could find him and ask for his medical assistance when needed. Castiel, or "Jimmy Novak"-which _you_, dear readers, know as the man in the trench coat currently having his shin worked on by Balthazar-was formerly known to be a thief, and quite a good one at that, until he had decided to retire without permission of Crowley, which reaped the bullet in his shin.

"Ah, yes. You had gotten it into your thick head that you could just _leave_ our leader's service," Balthazar said sarcastically. Jimmy rolled his eyes. "You also had plans to marry, correct?" the physician continued.

"Y-yes," Jimmy stuttered through the pain, shutting his eyes tight and clenching his hands into fists.

"Her name is…?" Balthazar let his voice trail off in a questioning tone. He pulled the bullet out roughly with the tweezers in hand.

Jimmy convulsed in his surprise and cried out, shuddering as sudden waves of pain emanated from his leg.

"Meg," Jimmy wheezed his answer. "Don't be so rough," he complained.

"I got the bullet out, didn't I?" the former-doctor replied with a smile in his blue eyes. "You should be thanking me."

"...Thank you, Balthazar," Jimmy mumbled after his shin was disinfected, sewn shut, and bandaged. He sat up and looked at Balthazar, pulling down his pant leg.

"Oh, don't sound so overjoyed, Cassie. It's embarrassing," Balthazar said sarcastically. "You're so serious, Jimmy; sometimes I forget that I've ever seen you smile."

Jimmy stood and limped towards the door before Balthazar called out "Oi, where do you think you're going?"

"To visit Meg," Jimmy replied bluntly. Balthazar rolled his eyes and walked over him, offering him a stabilizing arm.

"What, and lead the Boss's men to her? Have you lost all your senses?" the physician asked hypothetically. "No, you'll stay here-"

"But Crowley's men may have already reached her," Jimmy interrupted worriedly.

"Then stay one night. You can leave in the morning, but it wouldn't do to get that injury infected before you had time to see your precious Meg." The tone in Balthazar's voice informed Jimmy that his diagnosis of the situation was final and there would be nothing left to argue about. Jimmy sighed and nodded.

_3:57 am._

Jimmy, with silent expertise, slipped on his suit jacket, blue tie, and trench coat, and slowly limped towards the door of the apartment. He slipped his black shoes on and gingerly opened the door. Jimmy didn't want to worry his friend, but he couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to Meg. To leave now and visit her, to make sure she was safe, was the only sufficient option for him.

Grimacing when the door creaked slightly, Jimmy limped off swiftly into the night.

Balthazar sighed when he heard his front door close, almost inaudibly.

"If you fuck up your bloody shin, Castiel, I'm not fixing it again," he mumbled before wearily letting sleep overtake his senses once again.

Jimmy Novak tried to make his limp less noticeable, to minimize the strange stares he was receiving, as he walked, exhausted, down the side of the road. He stared, with intense blue eyes, straight ahead with intensity, at the nearing shape of a huge flat-roofed hospital building-a psychiatric facility to be exact.

Worry only made the pain more bearable and encouraged the retired thief to walk faster.

Jimmy did not _regret_ refusing Crowley's orders, but he couldn't help but imagine every possibility of every outcome of the decisions he could have made, but didn't.

After another painstaking hour of adjusted limping, Jimmy was finally standing, panting, in front of the psychiatric facility. His bullet wound had since started bleeding again but hardly any of the blood had managed to seep through his pants.

He looked at his watch.

_11:48 am._ Jimmy had been walking for approximately eight hours towards his destination; he didn't take a taxi or hitch a ride because he didn't want to risk possibly being picked up by anyone who would recognize him.

Though exhaustion weighed down heavily upon his eyelids, Jimmy's mere willpower was enough to keep him awake and active. He treaded on his injured leg and aching feet with a trained composure; if no one was told of his pain, they would never guess something ailed him; the bullet wound wasn't very deep either, which lessened the pain.

Jimmy made his way to an employee side door and picked the lock quickly, slipping in while no one was around. Once inside what appeared to be a closet, he shrugged off his trench coat and suit jacket and replaced them with a white doctor's coat, fixing a nametag that said "Manson" to the coat before leaving the closet into the hospital.

He navigated the hallways swiftly, acting the part of a very busy physician very well, while remaining exceedingly aware of his surroundings so that, if the need presented itself, he would have no trouble in evading people, either enemy or unwanted friend, and escape with the good chance of losing any followers that he might attract.

Jimmy hummed a tuneless melody and now walked at a slightly jerky saunter until he reached his destination. Room 236C.

He took a quick look around and punched in the code he had memorized, anticipation burbling in his stomach as he walked into the room and closed the door behind him, listening intently until he heard the click of it locking.

"Meg," he said softly to the dark-haired woman who sat in a white jumpsuit on a bed, facing the window with an awed look on her face. She turned slowly and looked at Jimmy who walked up to her and gently led her to the closet and pulled her in, closing the door and turning on the light.

"Who are you? Am I still dreaming?" Meg asked in a drowsy voice that pulled at his heart, stirring both emotions of slight disappointment and also utter adoration. He kissed her forehead and a small smile grew in the corners of her mouth.

"Hello, Clarence," she said in that very faint drawl of hers. Jimmy grinned at his nickname and moved a strand of hair from her rounded face; she called him Clarence because she was constantly bombarded with memories of the movie: "It's a Wonderful Life", which seemed to be comforting to her; he liked that nickname, nevertheless.

"Hello, Meg," he greeted in return.

Meg Masters, Jimmy's fiance, had been diagnosed with Derealisation Disorder, wherein the one diagnosed cannot tell the difference between reality and fantasy, and Posttraumatic Stress Disorder: she had achieved these mental instabilities when her Mother and Father were murdered, and her little sister committed suicide a few weeks later. The doctors said that Meg was doing well in her recovery, but excitement was definitely something that was highly encouraged to be kept away from her; Jimmy wanted to make sure that any and every extreme excitement was kept far away from the love of his life so that she may recover.

"How are you feeling?" Jimmy asked softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She leisurely slid her arms around him, that vague smile still plastered on her beautiful face.

"I like the roughness of your voice. It makes me feel all tingly," Meg commented dreamily in a bit of a giggle.

"I like your voice, too," Jimmy replied. He didn't have much time until her actual doctor would come by to check on her.

"Who have you seen today?" he asked.

"I see _you_, Clarence," she said.

"Did you see anyone new today?" he persisted, still smiling. He _adored_ her. "Someone you don't remember ever seeing?"

"I dreamed there was a man with scars on his face. I don't know what he wanted, but he liked to look at me," Meg slurred slightly. "Then I woke up, at least I think I did...Am I awake now?" she asked, her smile turning into an adorable frown of confusion, her brow furrowing over her big brown eyes.

"Yes, you're awake." Jimmy wore his smile now just for show, to ensure that Meg wouldn't worry. The man she had just described was one of Crowley's men: Ariss.

"What was the man wearing?" he asked, inching closer to the door of the closet.

"I thought I was dreaming…" Meg continued to herself, looking around with an absent gaze in her eyes.

"Meg, I need you to remember what he was wearing," Jimmy nudged her gently until she was sort of focusing again.

"You're cute…" her voice trailed off again and she bit her bottom lip. Jimmy swallowed and blushed under her gaze. "He wore a uniform and he had a gun...I think it was a gun…" she finally answered.

All kinds of possibilities popped into his head, and as he sorted through them, "security guard" stuck the longest. So Ariss was posing as a Security guard. Not good.

Jimmy's time was up. Though it pained him to leave her, he couldn't risk being caught and giving her more trauma to deal with.

Jimmy opened the closet door just a crack and peeked out. No one was there and he didn't see anyone out in the hall through the window of the other door.

He led Meg out of the closet and helped her into her bed, where she mumbled "goodbye, Angel", before he placed a last adoring kiss on her temple and he left the room.

He walked casually down the halls towards the closet where his coats were stashed, all the while getting a good look at the security guards he passed by; Jimmy was, by now, wearing an air ventilating mask to make sure Ariss wouldn't find him. But the dilemma at hand was that every security guard he passed looked familiar. Every security guard was one of Crowley's men. Anxiety bit at his stomach.

It was then that Jimmy Novak made the decision to take on one last job of thievery, the most important job in his life so far: he was going to steal Meg Masters away from the facility.


	3. Caught

Jimmy awoke, groggily, and stared up at the ceiling of the crap Motel room he'd rented for the night. For a little while, he just laid there, thinking, planning; he considered every option he had.

There was a window in her room, a closet, and not much else. He could construct an escape route through the closet wall, leading them into the room next door where they could slip away if some diversion was made, to distract the "security guards." No, that would take far too long to put together. Something more _Immediate_ had to happen.

His mind drifted back to the window but he wasn't sure about it.

Jimmy threw off his covers and leapt out of bed. Garbing himself in a suit, he slipped on his shoes and trench coat and left the Motel, returning the keys first.

Almost mechanically-for it was almost second nature for him-Jimmy Novak calmly and efficiently broke into a car, very quickly, and after successfully hotwiring it, the drove to the facility, parking in the west parking lot, where the staff spaces were reserved.

He got out of the car and began to walk quickly around the building, studying the outside thoroughly. Once he found Meg's window, the fourth from the bottom right in the eastern wing-it was about fifty feet up-his heart sank. From her window there was only a straight drop, no pipes or anything useful near enough to her window to aid in his escape with her. Jimmy rubbed his face, frustrated.

'_Oh, if only I could fly...' _he thought wistfully. _'Everything would be so much easier.' _

He limped to the staff side door, the one he'd found before, and to his luck, found the same name tag and doctor's coat from before.

Walking with a perfectly faked sense of medical purpose down the halls, Jimmy memorized, to the best of his ability, every door and where it lead, every possible escape route.

He didn't have much time; he knew he had to act fast.

Running the risk of Ariss recognizing him, Jimmy Novak roamed the facility without the air filter mask; the "security guards" he saw, Crowley's men, had only ever heard of him, Castiel: the Angel-winged thief, and had never actually seen him before; they would never guess that he was walking among them now, a traitor to their King, feigning to be a doctor "just to save his love"; as if that were a menial task.

Jimmy quickened his limping pace when he realized that Crowley's men were concentrated near Meg's room. He was afraid that they had already taken her, or done something worse.

He almost burst into her room, seeing to guards around, to find her laying calmly on her bed, talking to the ceiling.

"Hello, Meg." Jimmy began, his voice husky with the worry he'd attempted to hide.

Meg turned her head and smiled serenely.

"Hello, Clarence. You're pretending to be my doctor again." She commented.

"Yes. Has anyone tried to take you out of your room?" Jimmy asked in a hushed tone, his blue eyes flicking periodically towards both the window in the door and the window by her bed.

"Nope." Meg answered bluntly. Her face grew stern and a trace of fear could be seen in her face.

"Is something wrong?" her voice was small and trembling. Jimmy sat down on the bed next to her and held her shaking body, rubbing her back in a soothing way.

"No, no, everything's alright." he said, trying to quell her fears.

She relaxed against him as he began to hum a slow tune.

"Everything will be o…" his voice trailed off when he looked out the window in the door to see Ariss staring directly at him, a cruel grin on his pale face under the shadow of dusty blond hair.

"...shit." Jimmy cursed under his breath.

"Everything will be 'oh shit'?" Meg repeated questioningly, looking up at her fiance with a confused expression.

Jimmy stood and positioned himself, protectively, in front of Meg as the door opened and a very tall man in a suit walked in with Ariss.

The tall man pointed at Jimmy and Jimmy suddenly realized who the man was.

'_Sam Winchester: lawyer.'_ He thought. Adrenaline shot through his veins and his heart sank. _'Great. Now he's seen my face.' _the thought, annoyed.

"You're Castiel! The thief!" Sam Winchester exclaimed. Suddenly a voice rose up "get 'im!" and the room was swarmed with Crowley's security guards. Plans and tactics flew through the former thief's mind, almost too fast for him to process.

He was going to have to take a huge risk; one thing he _did_ know was that Crowley's men must have been told to catch him alive, else he'd already be dead and Meg would be too-he shuddered at the thought-therefore, if he did something that would put him in danger, the "security guards" would be forced to make sure he stayed alive. Jimmy looked over the men, seeing their eyes filled with determination to do their jobs, and also filled with awe at the sight of Crowley's favorite thief; he didn't know he was so popular.

Castiel jumped up on the bed and thrust himself against the window, shattering the glass and falling out until a jolt of pain seared through his unwounded leg. Sam Winchester had caught hold of his ankle before he'd fallen to his probable death.

All was going according to plan, so far.

Castiel wiggled violently, bearing the pain he was creating for himself.

"Do you _want_ me to drop you?! Are you crazy?!" Sam groaned, trying to pull the thief back in through the window-this was quite the morbidly comical sight for bystanders in the parking lot.

With a hefty twist of his body, Castiel kicked the lawyer in the jaw with his injured, and now bleeding, leg, unbalancing Sam and causing him to fall out of the window as well.

Jimmy smiled as one-by-one, each of Crowley's men grabbed onto the heels and ankles of the other as the momentum of Castiel and Sam's descent pulled each of them out of the window, like a game of monkeys in a barrel-gone-human, until Castiel's falling pace slowed-for the men had grown more competent and stopped themselves from falling out of the window as well-and his hands rested on the ground. With a last painful kick to the lawyer's ear, Sam let go of Jimmy's leg and the former thief walked a few paces on his hands, over shattered glass, and then, upon setting his feet on the ground, hurriedly limped, with a grimace of agony, off towards the car he'd stolen.

Listening with unhidden glee to the cries and grunts of Crowley's men as they struggled and strained their way either back in through the window or a safe fall to the asphalt below, Castiel turned the corner, with an inward apology to Meg, he was met by the pale, still-smiling, face of Ariss.

Jimmy slowed to a stop, panting hard. His body ached all over and his leg and glass-torn palms throbbed in pain.

"Nowhere else run, Castiel." Ariss said in a long drawn out Texan drawl; only Crowley and Balthazar knew Castiel's real name.

Jimmy sat in the middle of the road, then laid on his back in utter resignation.

"Fine. You got me." he muttered, closing his tired eyes.

Ariss laughed, a very rich and bellowing laugh, and walked over to his former superior to inject something into Jimmy's blood.

His world went black.

Jimmy groaned, coming back to consciousness..

Without opening his eyes, he knew he was sitting in a chair, tied to it of course, and he was located in a small room, based on the echo of his groan; the room smelled musty.

The sound of a door creaking open urged him to open his eyes.

Crowley walked in, closing the door behind him.

Castiel rolled his eyes and groaned again.

"Morning, Castiel." Crowley started, gruffly.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Jimmy asked impatiently.

"I must say, I am very impressed with your little escape plan earlier at the psychiatric facility." Crowley continued leisurely.

The door opened and in walked Balthazar, carrying his medical supplies. His face lit up when he saw Jimmy.

"Cassie!" he greeted jovially.

"Just tell me what you want." Castiel ignored the doctor momentarily.

"Bloody well nice to see you _too_." Balthazar grumbled, rummaging through his things for what he needed. He began examining Jimmy.

"I want to make a deal." Crowley began again.

"I'm not interested." Jimmy said stubbornly, quickly assessing the room; based on the size of the shadows in the room, he determined that it was nighttime and he'd been knocked out for hours.

"Fucked up your leg…" Balthazar commented.

"Just hear me out." Crowley pushed.

"Bloody Hell, your hands…what'd you do, walk over glass on your hands?" the physician mumbled. "Yes." Jimmy replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "...Of course you did." Balthazar rolled his eyes as he began bandaging the tattered hands. Castiel winced. "Don't be such a wuss." Balthazar added.

"I want you to work for me again. Just one last job and then you're free to go." the Boss paced, hands shoved in the pant pockets of his black suit.

"I said no before and I haven't changed my mind." Castiel said. "You're lying."

"That may very well be true," Crowley admitted.

"How many fucking times must I sew up your bloody leg?" the doctor cursed under his breath.

"But it's not like you have any real choice. Accept my proposition or your fiance, Meg, will take a vacation to Hell." Crowley concluded.

Jimmy heaved a heavy and shaky sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

"No." he practically growled, flicking his eyes open. Crowley rolled his eyes and then looked at Castiel in confusion.

"Not quite the answer I was hoping for. All you've managed to do is get your girlfriend killed." Crowley said but his captive wasn't listening; Castiel was listening for any outside sounds. There. He knew where he was: one of Crowley's abandoned safehouses, the one nearest to the hospital.

Without a second thought, and only after Balthazar had finished stitching up his shin again, Castiel lunged forward and swung the chair into Crowley, destroying it in its rotting antique state, and thus causing his bonds to fall on the floor. With a grunt of discomfort, Castiel whipped around and grabbed the gun which was tucked in the back of the physician's pants and aimed the gun at the two of them.

"Oh, okay." Balthazar shrugged sarcastically, raising his hands in the air in immediate surrender.

Crowley looked calm, if only slightly annoyed. "Bollocks." he muttered, raising his hands slowly.

"Let me out." Castiel commanded.

"Let 'im out!" Crowley called towards the door.

With a last glance at Balthazar, Jimmy hurried out of the abandoned safe house, tucking the gun away.

Jimmy made it safely away from Crowley and his men, stealing a car from a nearby lot and driving to the facility. His cell phone, which had acquired a cracked screen, pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the newly received icon that informed him that he'd just received a text. Jimmy had a fairly simple phone but he still had trouble understanding how to use the damn thing. After pressing a few buttons, he finally opened the text and discovered that it was from Balthazar.

_"Crowley sent Ariss and Alistair to get Meg. Get there first." _-Balthy

Castiel felt panic rise inside of him and he drove faster.

Bursting through the staff entrance again, and acquiring his suit jacket and trench coat-both were gifts from Meg, on Christmas years ago-Jimmy less than silently pushed open an air vent in the ceiling and climbed in, stealthily sliding his way towards Meg's room.

'_Last chance, Jimmy.'_ He thought to himself.

Finally, for he had memorized the facility inside and out, he found Meg's room and gingerly peeked his head in to see that Meg was alone and without being sure of his and her safety, he wearily dropped into the room, after opening the vent. He was exhausted but he needed to save Meg; that alone made him forget the pain racking through his body.

"Y-You jumped th-through the win-window!" Meg exclaimed, surprised by his sudden appearance.

Castiel wondered why she was still in her room, though all the glass had been cleaned out of her room and her window boxed up; why didn't the doctors mover her somewhere safe? The security guards probably wouldn't permit them to, he concluded.

"I'm okay," he stepped forward and placed a quick kiss on Meg's lips. She flashed him a sultry smile and Castiel blushed; the moonlight that managed to peek through the uncovered parts of the window casted a hallowing glow on her beautiful face. _'So beautiful.'_ Jimmy thought.

"I made a new friend, Clarence." she said abruptly, dismissing the past events as only a dream.

"What?" Jimmy grew concerned. "Who?"

"He said his name was Dean, at least that's what I think he-"

"Where?" Jimmy interrupted, looking around frantically. Just then the door opened and Ariss and Alistair walked in and behind them stood a familiar looking man, as well as the tall lawyer from before.

"No…" Jimmy whispered, feeling tired and helpless. He let go of Meg and grunted as he jumped at the bed, leapt off of it, and started to pull himself into the air vent before someone gave a hard tug to his stitched up leg. Jimmy cried out and his muscles gave and he landed on his feet, only to be thrown against the wall.

"Get the girl outta here!" the man holding Jimmy still called over his shoulder.

"Not...with...them. Don't trust..them…" Castiel wheezed, ready to collapse. He opened his eyes-they had been shut because of the pain-and his eyes rested on the man who had thwarted his rescue mission.

Detective Inspector Dean Winchester: the man who had so many times come so close to catching Castiel but had never succeeded until now.

"Meg…" Jimmy panted as Ariss and Alistair pulled his fiance out of the room.

"Bastard." he growled at the detective.

"Finally caught you, Castiel." Dean said, a fierce triumph in his green eyes.

"You're coming with me." he said, turning Castiel around roughly, cuffing him.

All Castiel could do was worry and panic, feeling helpless and like a failure. He'd been caught, and Meg too.

'_What will they do to Meg?!'_


End file.
